The heart of the wave breaker had been transformed into a coliseum where steel and energy intertwined.
The deck beneath one's feet was no lifeless object, but rather composed of countless precision modules pieced together; walking upon it, one could feel a faint hum born of technology itself, starkly different from the tossing of a giant ship on the sea.
This was the whisper of the Gravity Stabilization System, which stripped this area from the laws of the ocean and turned it into a patch of absolutely stable land.
The Force Field Barrier was completely transparent when not needed; only when the aftershocks of skills struck it like stray bullets would ripples like water surface appear, silently swallowing the violent energy.
This place was divided into three worlds by invisible walls.
The outermost and largest was the Rookie Arena.
The air was a mix of the cloying sweetness of popcorn, the ostentation of expensive perfume, and the restlessness of hormones.
Rather than a battlefield, it was more like a social party for the children of the wealthy.
They were dressed glamorously, commanding equally glamorous Pokémon, their skills more flashy than functional, lacking any real strategy.
In the stands, most of their parents or companions were absentmindedly scrolling through their phones, occasionally offering a perfunctory round of applause when a brilliant skill exploded.
Noisy, chaotic, and devoid of any technical merit.
Ariel's gaze lingered for less than three seconds before turning toward the inner circles.
The Intermediate and advanced Arenas were merged into one, where the air suddenly cooled.
The clamor was suppressed to a minimum, replaced by the muffled thuds of skill collisions, the short and powerful commands of Trainers, and intermittent, tooth-aching silences.
The people here lacked the frivolity seen in the Rookie Arena.
They wore training clothes that allowed for easier movement, their expressions focused, every command calculated.
Their Pokémon might not have had the noble bloodlines of those in the Rookie Arena, but each one had fierce eyes and clear muscle lines—they were true warriors forged through hardship.
And the core area, the Superior Arena, was separated by a substantial alloy gate.
Beside the gate stood two solemn medical personnel in white coats, the medical equipment behind them flickering with a cold light.
This place was like an independent fortress, completely isolating the inside from the outside.
To enter, one needed at least five Gym Badges or special qualification certificates issued by the League or certain large organizations.
Ariel did not approach, simply standing at a distance.
A hint of understanding flashed in Ariel's eyes.
It seemed this trip to the Southern Isolated Island would not be too boring.
His attention was finally drawn back by a duel in a corner of the Rookie Arena.
A young boy, appearing no more than ten years old, was deathly gripping the railing of the command platform.
Sweat had already soaked the stray hairs on his forehead, sticking them to his skin in strands, making his already pale cheeks look even more disheveled.
"Ralts, quick, Teleport!"
The boy's voice carried a sob, sharp and powerless.
Opposite him, a youth of similar age but dressed luxuriously and with an arrogant demeanor was boredly filing his nails with a nail clipper.
Crouched at his feet was a Mightyena whose physique far exceeded others of its kind.
The Mightyena's fur was glossy, its muscles bulging, and its eyes were filled with impatience and cruelty as it approached step by step.
The boy's Pokémon was a Ralts.
This little boy was none other than Curator Stern's son, Marius.
Ariel had once directed him in a Pokémon battle; he hadn't expected that after so much time, there would be no progress at all.
Even some regression...
"Curator Stern's son shouldn't lack resources, Teacher..."
"Could it be that he really isn't suited to be a Trainer?"
Looking at this still clumsy commanding, Ariel couldn't help but ponder.
Ariel's gaze lingered a moment longer on that Ralts.
Even though he had seen this Ralts before and understood how high its potential was, seeing it again, Ariel still took a few more looks.
The color was excellent.
It was a pure white, almost without a single impurity, and the red fin-like horns on its head also possessed a gem-like, warm luster.
This was by no means an individual that could be raised with ordinary resources; its bloodline and potential might even exceed ninety percent of the Pokémon on the field.
But at this moment, this exceptionally gifted Pokémon was like a frightened rabbit.
Every time it appeared after a Teleport, it would immediately look back at its owner, its red eyes filled with pleading and unease. It was seeking commands, and even more, seeking something to rely on.
But its owner, the boy named Marius, could give it nothing but "Teleport."
"Ha, trash is trash."
The wealthy kid opposite laughed contemptuously, finally putting down the nail clipper.
"Mightyena, give it a lesson, use Snarl!"
"Awooo—!"
Mightyena opened its bloody maw, and a circle of visible dark sound waves suddenly spread out.
This wasn't meant to cause much physical damage, but was rather a form of mental devastation.
Dark-type energy mixed into the sound waves, continuously eroding Ralts's will to fight.
The tiny figure trembled in the sound waves, the red horns on its head dimming slightly.
"Teleport! Use Teleport quickly!"
Marius shouted in a breakdown.
With a flash of white light, Ralts disappeared again, appearing at the other end of the field.
But this time, its movements were clearly half a beat slower, and it even stumbled upon landing.
"Only knowing how to hide? Truly boring to the extreme."
The wealthy kid yawned.
"Mightyena, continue. Let's see how many more times it can hide."
The surrounding onlookers burst into fits of laughter.
"Is this kid here for a joke? That Ralts is of such high quality; giving it to him is really a waste."
"Isn't it? He can't even give a counterattack command, only knows how to Teleport. Its energy will run out sooner or later."
"That Ralts's stamina is almost exhausted. If he can still lose this, I'll eat this battle stage on the spot!"
The mockery and laughter were like dull knives cutting into Marius's self-esteem.
He bit his lower lip hard, already tasting blood; tears welled in his eyes but he stubbornly refused to let them fall.
He didn't know what to do.
Everything the teacher taught and everything written in books had turned into a blank at this moment.
His brain was in a mess, leaving only that single, pitiful thought—hide.
As long as I don't get hit, I won't lose.
If Brother Ariel were here, would I be able to win?
In Marius's heart, a figure gradually emerged—a Trainer who had once help him in directing a battle, and also the role model in his heart!
Brother Ariel!
After all, he could never learn the things the teacher taught.
But that time on the Beach Battlefield, after Brother Ariel guided him in battle, he had felt a sudden sense of enlightenment.
Just as Marius's defenses were about to completely crumble, a voice, cold and devoid of any emotion, rang out from behind him without warning, drilling precisely into his ears.
"A Pokémon is the mirror image of its owner."